Chapter Forty-Three
Lilac
Later that night, Irvin comes into the living room. He left earlier after our fight, and I feel incredibly bad. He was only trying to ask me questions, and I panicked. I don’t like the way he pries into my past, which is why I told him how I really felt—how I think he is the killer.
He leans against the wall now, silent, then pushes off and strides toward me. He doesn’t say a word as he kisses me, then lifts me and settles me on his lap.
“I didn’t kill Irek Williams,” he says quietly. “Where did you see the video?”
“Someone sent me a message to meet them in the auditorium,” I reply. “They put it on the projection screen. Of you killing him. I saw it.”
“Are you sure that’s what you saw?”
“I know what I saw.”
“My princess, you hallucinate.”
He’s right—I do. And now I don’t know what to believe. My own thoughts? My own memories?
He strokes the side of my cheek. “I would never kill anyone unless they were a threat to you. I already told you that.”
I nod because deep down I know that’s true.
“I don’t get off on killing innocent people, Lilac. I’m not normal, but I’m also not the kind of not normal that harms someone for no reason.”
“Why does my opinion matter to you anyway?” I ask. “You don’t care about anyone’s opinion.”
“I care about yours, my princess. Everyone else? I don’t give a fuck about them. But you’re special to me.” His voice drops. “I told you—I’m too obsessed with you. I wouldn’t jeopardize my freedom and risk being apart from you.”
“You did when you went against the board to marry me.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
He intertwines his fingers with mine. “I need you tied to me so you can’t go anywhere. I need you to be mine, even if you didn’t want to be at the time. I need control so I can prove my love to you.”
I pause. He’s told me he loves me before, but I thought he was just being sarcastic.
I understand now—his obsession is rooted in control, and his control is rooted in his love.
He can’t let me go emotionally. He needs me and won’t hurt me.
And I realize I feel both safety and terror in his obsession with me.
I don’t respond. I just lean forward and kiss him.
Irvin picks me up and lays me on the couch.
He pulls himself free from his pants and pushes into my mouth.
He fucks my mouth hard and deep, and I gag, choking as tears spill down my face.
When he comes, I swallow, breathless. Then he flips me onto my back, pulls my hands behind me, and something snaps. Metal digs into my skin.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
He doesn’t answer. He slides inside me, stretching me open.
I moan, groan, gasp his name. I don’t want him to stop.
He fucks me hard and long, and I realize in that moment that I need Irvin more than anything in this world.
He’s the only man I would ever let control me—mind and body.
Heat spills down my thighs as he finishes.
He undoes the handcuffs, and I pull him into my arms, kissing him softly, lips lingering.
His touch feels genuine, and I love this part of him—the tenderness, the quiet moments when it’s just us in our bubble. He pulls me against his chest as he turns on Hulu. Then he lies by my side, warm and heavy, and drifts off to sleep. I follow soon after.